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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28164282">In Pursuit of September Twenty-Seventh</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Absurdism, Alternate Universe, Black Comedy, Existential Crisis, Human Names Used, Is Crack Angst a genre? It is now, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Science Fiction, This would probably work better as a multi-chapter fic but I don't want to submit to being known</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:29:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28164282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Good morning,” The clock had both hands at twelve. “-highly values Operators!” Toris wasn’t highly valued. “It is September twenty-sixth,” So was yesterday. “-let’s all keep hard at work so that we will can complete our mission!” The staticky voice crackled away on the intercom. Sometimes Toris wondered who did the morning announcement, it was exactly the same everyday but no one he asked could put a name to a voice.</p><p>Toris lived a simple life. Everyone in the complex had a job and his was to tend to the paper room. The world is a circle, time is a circle, social groups are a circle, and there was a door that could not be opened because no one wanted to open it. It doesn't feel right that circles don't have an end.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Pursuit of September Twenty-Seventh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>What was the impetus for this unnecessary thing? I can't leave my home, my life is devoid of new content, and I genuinely believe that the sole reason why Hetalia characters have to do so much paperwork and go to so many meetings is because it's all busy work doled out to them to keep them from shenanigans.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Good morning,” The clock had both hands at twelve. “-highly values Operators!” Toris wasn’t highly valued. “It is September twenty-sixth,” So was yesterday. “-let’s all keep hard at work so that we will can complete our mission!” The staticky voice crackled away on the intercom. Sometimes Toris wondered who did the morning announcement, it was exactly the same everyday but no one he asked could put a name to a voice.</p><p>Still, he climbed out of his cot as he did every morning when the announcement came on to wake everyone up. Everyone had to get up for the announcement, if someone didn’t get up when the morning call rang than that could only mean that they were dead.</p><p>His room was small and cramped and shared with two other men. Before it was a bedroom it was a broom closest and it still was, much of the limited space was taken up by cleaning supplies. Toris didn’t mind it though because having cleaning supplies in easy reach meant that he could get started on work quicker and the quicker he did then the quicker he could get off of work.</p><p>Toris and his two roommates, Eduard and Raivis, were Cleaners. It was a simple job, all they had to do was clean up the messes made throughout the complex and then they were done for the day and free to go about as they pleased. The trio divided up the workload as they did in the usual manner. Eduard would take the NORD sector as that region in the compound was a frozen wasteland and neither of the other two could stand the arctic temperatures long enough to properly clean it. Raivis would take to cleaning the electrical and engineering sectors because he was quite little and could easily be shoved into crevices. While they did that, Toris would work in the paper room because no one else would take the paper room.</p><p>Each of them gathered up their tools, a heavy winter coat for Eduard, a sizable number of sticks for Raivis, and a well-worn stapler for Toris. They ventured out of the cramped little room and Toris made his way down the hall.</p><p>No where in the complex offered windows. Toris couldn’t remember if they were underground or not and neither could anyone else when he asked. The lack of windows didn’t matter with the UV lights overhead. The cast the otherwise metal laden hall a far more interesting purple. Like clockwork, the doors that lined the halls were opening and other members of the complex were filing out of them to go to their respective posts.</p><p>Nobody interacted with each other because the complex was a tight ship that required diligence. There was a mission to complete and everyone had a part in it. Some time ago, on September twenty-sixth, the White Coats (as everyone had nicknamed them) gave them what would be the most important mission of their lives and that until it was completed, no operative could leave. They were quite literally born and raised for this.</p><p>So from their cheery facility that was for a known fact above ground because it had windows, they were moved to this one. No one gave it a name because they thought that they wouldn’t be here that long. A select few were hand picked by the White Coats for an extremely important task and were dubbed ‘Programmers’, only Programmers knew what Programmers did due to how sensitive the information was. Everyone wanted to be a Programmer because it sounded important and steadily the White Coats assigned tasks to the other operatives that were just as important as the Programmers were, just not.</p><p>That was how Toris found himself working as a Cleaner, a task he readily took to because it was what he was assigned. He supposed it made sense. After all, Toris wasn’t engineered to have any of the special adaptations like the keen eyes of the Range Classification or the temperature resilience of the Arctic Classification, or whatever made the Programmers so special.</p><p>The paper room was a cluttered mess. Sheets and sheets of papers were scattered across every surface and it would only be a matter of time before daily reports started coming in through the mailing chute. Had Toris not worked in this room every day since September twenty-sixth, he would have thought that no one had cleaned this room in months. He set to work by scooping up the armful of papers nearest to him and shuffling them into something resembling a stack.</p><p>All in-coming documents had to be filed accordingly. Request forms had to be sent out to the proper department in order to fulfill the claim, maintenance tickets likewise had to be sent to the corresponding crews, and progress reports had to be sent into the slot helpfully labelled ‘Progress Reports’ so that it could be sent to the White Coats, though the label was starting to wear away.</p><p>The shuffling <em>fwush!</em> behind him meant that the first of the influx of papers were starting to come in so Toris hustled over to the out-going section. He had gotten pretty good at his job, Toris grew skilled at recognizing what sort of sheet he was looking at from a glance. With a deft maneuver, he sent three progress reports at once through the mailing slot. There wasn’t much more to the job than that. Papers came in, Toris grabbed them and sorted them and by the time he made a dent in the stack, more papers came to take their place.</p><p>Finally, after an unchecked number of hours, the intercom crackled to life. “Greetings,” Was it still greeting if it was over a one-way intercom? “-esteemed Operators!” Toris had no self-esteem. “It is time for your prescribed break!” Prescribed made it sound like the break was regularly scheduled. “Please depart from your stations for supplements.”</p><p>Once again the halls of the complex grew crowded as Operators filed towards the mess hall. Toris was slow to leave, rapidly leafing through the stack of papers in his hands before he left. He missed the main crowd as a result with only the final dregs still petering through.</p><p>As Toris passed through the hall, he noticed an Operator standing on a ladder with a can of paint. Antonio, Toris recognized him, one of the Blockers from the SPAM sector. Normally, Blockers watched the door to make sure no one tried to leave.</p><p>There was only one door out of the complex and it couldn’t be opened because Operators weren't allowed to open it. Doing so without the White Coats announcing that their mission had been completed would be a direct violation. The White Coats never said what the punishment for violating their rules was but no one ever tested it.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Toris stopped to ask. Antonio looked down; his arm still fixed upwards with a brush in his hand. On the ceiling he had written ‘GULLI’</p><p>“I’m writing gullible on the ceiling.” At that admission, Toris almost just nodded and walked away.</p><p>“…Why?”</p><p>“What kind of question is that? Because Lovino told me that gullible was written on the ceiling.” This time, Toris did nod and walk away.</p><p>It was September twenty-sixth so it was probably a Thursday and on Thursday, the mess hall served a small styrofoam cup full of this foamy, warm, grey liquid. Toris wasn't part of the kitchen so he had no idea what it was but no one has died from it so it must be a good thing. Raivis waved to him from a small table so Toris went to join him. Eduard wasn't there, but he never stayed at meals. He always took his food back to the NORD sector so that he could eat with his cooler friends that were too good to eat in the mess hall.</p><p>Raivis was a short little milksop of a boy, from one of the later generations (fourth or fifth, not even Raivis remembered at this point). His hands were still smudge from black grease and a large streak ran across his face.</p><p>"How has your day gone so far?" Toris asked while swirling his cup around.</p><p>"I think I'm running low on sticks, I'll have to request a request form to get some more..." Raivis trailed off as he looked up and remembered who he was talking to. Toris stopped swirling his cup around, Raivus shrunk in on himself.</p><p>"Do you have a request form?" Toris sighed.</p><p>"No. How do I get one?"</p><p>"You can ask for requests forms with a request form." He just shrugged and went back to what constituted as a meal. Their sparse conversation was getting harder to keep going once a nearby table started getting louder.</p><p>Gilbert was stood up on a table in the middle of a thrilling story about how he single-handedly stopped a burst pipe from flooding the CENT sector. Gilbert was well liked for the fact that he was one of the few first generation Operators that hadn't died off due to all of his organs miraculously shutting down and because he made things sound exciting. Everyone liked Gilbert.</p><p>"I hate Gilbert." Toris murmured.</p><p>The feeling was mutual. As Gilbert got up, he stuck out his arm and swept a stack of cups to the ground. "You're Cleaners, aren't ya?" Gilbert called. "Go do your job then!" Some days, Toris really wanted to give Gilbert an upper cut one of these days, happiness in purpose be damned. Instead, Toris kind of just looked down at the table and imagined what it would be like to put Gilbert in his place. "What classification do the likes of you get, anyway?"</p><p>"S-stealth." Ravis squeaked.</p><p>"...Strategy." Toris said quietly, to which Gilbert let out a loud laugh.</p><p>"Strategy, huh?" He cackled. "Makes sense why you got saddled with Cleaner then! Remember what those White Coats used to say, huh? Huh? '<em>The experiments were utter failures but Operators with the Strategy Classification disappoint the most'." </em>Gilbert spoke in a monotone voice that dissolved into his laugh soon afterwards.</p><p>"Is something the matter?" Two things happened at once. Gilbert's laughter came to an abrupt end and a weight settled on Toris' shoulders and the top of his head. His shoulders tensed immediately. He knew who it was without having to look up. Ivan had a history of greeting Toris this way despite Toris' repeated wheezes of fear and constricting lungs. Ivan smiled often and freely and he had good reason to, after all he was one of the eight illustrious Programmers. He was also one of, if not, the physically largest Operators in the complex which lessened the desire to rub him the wrong way even further. Ivan wasn't a fan of Gilbert which was unusual because Ivan wanted to have as many friends as possible. Toris often wondered if it was because he and Gilbert didn't like each other so Ivan disliked Gilbert because he was Toris' friend (Toris disagreed with this but Ivan said they were friends no matter how many times he tried to run away). Truth be told, Toris rather deal with Gilbert.</p><p>Gilbert coughed and grumbled something, making up a reason to leave. Rather than lean away now that Gilbert was gone, Ivan's fingers dug deeper into Toris' shoulders. Toris was starting to get a stomachache. "Looks like I did you a favor, Toris." Ivan said happily. "That's what friends do for each other so you need to be a good friend back."</p><p>Toris let out a dejected sigh, he glanced over to Ravis only to find an empty space where the boy had been. No doubt he had seen Ivan coming and fled. "Paper work?"</p><p>"Wonderful! Tomorrow you will do my progress report for me!" Despite Ivan's cheerful, childlike tone, Toris knew that the man wasn't asking. "That's why you're such a good friend, even though you aren't very bright, you do paper work very good."</p><p>"What? Why do you think I'm not very bright?"</p><p>"It's because you ask so many questions so you mustn't know very much." Toris wasn't to argue but the last time he argued with Ivan, Toris spent ages constantly looking over his shoulder.</p><p>The telltale sound of the glitchy chimes meant that break time was over so everyone began making their way back to their designated posts. In the brief few minutes he was gone, more paper had piled up into the room. Toris let out a long, deep sigh from the soul. His stomach was starting to hurt but standing around wouldn't fix anything so like before, he grabbed the nearest pile of papers and started sorting through them.</p><p>One thing Toris liked to do was collect the paper into tall stacks and then send them to their correct designations. Its efficiency was questionable but seeing the papers stacked so orderly and the actual metal floor did wonders at soothing his stomachaches. Toris was doing exactly that when he heard a boom.</p><p>Dropping the papers in his hand, Toris whirled around to see that the slot marked 'Progress Reports' had begun billowing smoke. The metal plate that denoted it now hung lopsided. Unsure what to do, Toris questionably ran towards it. He grabbed some nearby papers and started fanning the smoke in panic. He could only stand the acrid smell for a few seconds before Toris was forced to step back and cough violently. The smoke began to dissipated, filling the whole room in a weak grey haze and turning Toris' throat raw and eyes watery.</p><p>He tugged the collar of his jumpsuit over his nose and tilted his head downward. The Cleaner wasn't sure what to do, his job description was to put paper in their correct places, it said nothing of what to do in case there was a fire. After a few minutes, the smoke stopped entirely and Toris had to open the door to the hall otherwise he was going to choke. The second the door was open and his lungs remembered what recycled smoke-free air was like, he took a big wheezing gasp and hung by the door until he caught his breath.</p><p>No more dancing around it. Despite really not wanting to, Toris went back into the paper room and towards the now ruined slot that still held a wretched smell. He carefully grabbed onto the loose metal panel, the smoldering heat didn't mean much on his finger tips, and he pried it away to get a better look.</p><p>Toris wasn't sure what he had been expecting but it certainly wasn't this. A small metal slope went about a foot down before it reached a small grinder, covered in black soot and looking destroyed. The warped metal and plastic offered a view to what laid beyond that- glimpses of something deep and cavernous and full of shredded paper. Toris tilted his head as he stared, suddenly his scratchy throat was the last thing on his mind.</p><p>Gingerly, he grabbed another page and slide it down the slot. It slid into the contraption that whirled to live upon contact with a horrible sound. It scrunched the paper up and streaked it with black smudges but chewed it up all the same and spat it back out on the other side. More paper continued to come through the chute but for the first time, Toris couldn't care less about it. He must have stayed watching the shredder chew up every page he indiscriminately fed it until the intercom said it was time for everyone to retire for the day.</p><p>Toris shambled from the room with his eyes wide and head low. He spoke to no one, looked at no one, and when he came to his room, he sat down on his cot without breaking his posture. Eduard arrived soon afterwards, shaking snow from his hair and hanging up his coat. He cast a glance to Toris and then did a double take.</p><p>"Hey! What's wrong with you?!"</p><p>Toris' jolted and snapped up to look at Eduard. "The out-going chute- it- wh- h- Eduard, the progress reports don't go <em>anywhere</em>." He wheezed. "They aren't going to the White Coats, they just get shredded up!"</p><p>Eduard nodded along and then took off his glasses to wipe trace amounts of frost from them. Toris' fingers flexed uncontrollably at his roommate's minimal reaction. "Aren't you worried?! How are the White Coats going to know we finished our mission without the progress reports?"</p><p>"What kind of question is that?" Eduard pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "They're they White Coats, Toris. They made us, they made this place, so the progress reports don't go anywhere. It's all a part of their big plan, is all. When we do our mission right, they will come back for us and we all get to leave."</p><p>"...I guess that makes sense when you put it like that." Toris pressed his lips in a thin line. His hands braced his knees.</p><p>Toris slept very little that night on account of him being too preoccupied staring at the ceiling. Before he knew it, the intercom crackled to life.</p><p>“Good morning,” The clock had the hour hand at three and the minute hand between nine and ten. “-highly values Operators!” Toris had never felt less valued. “It is September twenty-sixth,” So was yesterday. “-let’s all keep hard at work so that we will can complete our mission!”</p><p><em>Thud! Thud! </em>Raivis and Eduard jumped down from their bunks to get ready for the day. Small hands planted against Toris' side and began shaking him wildly. "Toris? Toris?!" Raivis cried.</p><p>"I'm alive! I'm alive!" Toris quickly scrambled out of bed. Raivis took a step back and pressed away the tears welling in his eyes as he breathed a sigh of relief.</p><p>"Thank goodness!" Eduard replied with a hand splayed out on his chest. "We were worried you died in your sleep."</p><p>"Hey, Eduard, how many days have we been here?" Toris asked.</p><p>"Hm? Oh that's easy. We went down here on September twenty-sixth which was exactly ten-thousand, six hundred, and thirty-eight days ago." Eduard beamed with pride. He had an Intel Classification though as a Cleaner, the perfect memory that came with it seldom went used. Eduard never thought to ask why. The three went to their usual placements for the day but Toris did not walk to the paper room so much as drift down the hall.</p><p>The paper room was messier than it had been in years, Toris had barely cleaned it yesterday all things considered. The out-going chute for progress reports was still ruined so he sat down across from it for some time as papers continued to accumulate. He had done this ten-thousand, six hundred, and thirty-eight times. Toris stood up and walked out of the room.</p><p>He never explored the complex when everyone was working, the halls were empty. Toris wasn't sure where he was going, it wasn't often that he walked without purpose. As he turned a corner, he saw an Operator similarly milling about.</p><p>"Hey, why are you out here right now?" Toris asked then froze as the Operator turned towards him. The shaggy blond hair, the fair complexion, he knew the Operator to be named Matthew. This was wrong for two reasons. The first one was that as a member of the AMER sector, Matthew was well out of his jurisdiction. The second was that Matthew was dead, Toris had processed the report of Matthew's death himself after Matthew did not get up one morning during the announcements. "W-wh-"</p><p>"You're not supposed to talk to me." Matthew replied, his voice only a small hollow whisper. "You're not supposed to talk to dead Operators."</p><p>After a moment long of wide eyed staring, Matthew tried to shamble off but Toris reached forward and grabbed his very solid arm. He quickly altered his course to head towards the NORD sector, Ravis was useless with these kind of things so Eduard it was. The growing chill in the air meant that the NORD sector was close and by the time he was able to see his breath and found coats handing by a hall, he knew he was there.</p><p>He quickly shrugged on one of those coats before leading Matthew down the hall. The floor was slick with ice and snow on account of a water pipe that burst in the hall. At the end of the hall was a single door marked 'Cryogenics Room' which was blasted with ices. Toris shouldered the door open.</p><p>Inside was a room full of jagged ice and mounds of snow. The ceiling was partially destroyed, a contraption that once hung from it seemed to have exploded. There were six figures in the room, five of them were in a position of either cowering or in mid motion and covered in a translucent layer of ice. The sixth figure was Eduard who sat on an ice block and seemed to have been talking about something when Toris came in.</p><p>"Toris?! But you're supposed to be in the paper room?"</p><p>Toris paused, looking around. One of the ice statues that was standing upright had one hand held out in front of himself, and the other over his head curled too tightly to have been holding something and his face was trapped in eternal panic. Another, smaller statue covered his face entirely as he tried to turn away from something. Another one was laying face down in the snow, his odd positioning of his legs suggesting that he was too difficult to balance.</p><p>"...Eduard what's going on?"</p><p>"I'm hanging out with my friends in the NORD sector."</p><p>"But they're frozen."</p><p>"I can see that."</p><p>"...Why aren't you cleaning?"</p><p>"That's what's so great about these guys!" Eduard stretched his arm around the statue that was trying to shield himself. "The NORD sector's job is to freeze all of the water that comes into the sector and ship it out to the MEDI sector and they're the only one's with the clearance to ship out the ice. Therefore, the ice and snow in the sector isn't mess and these guys are really good about not making mess!"</p><p>"Because they're frozen? How did this happen?"</p><p>"Their cryo-ray blew a fuse and exploded exactly two-thousand, nine hundred, and fifty-eight days ago." That lined up to when Eduard started getting 'invited' to hang out with them. Forgetting about Matthew for a moment, Toris walked over and tapped on one of the ice sculptures.</p><p>"Are they, you know, dead?" He really didn't want to have to submit five more death reports to Hassan in the MEDI sector to be decommissioned but Toris might have to.</p><p>Eduard scratched his head before adjusting his glasses. "They can't be dead because they all have reported to their station diligently and not just on time, but early."</p><p>"So if we took them to the MEDI sector to defrost them, would they be okay?"</p><p>"Most likely but we can't. Only Operators assigned to the NORD sector are at liberty to transport ice, and they're all covered in ice." When Eduard phrased it like that, it made perfect sense. Toris slowly lowered his hand and felt foolish for asking. Then, suddenly his eyes lit up and he pointed to Matthew.</p><p>"Can you see him? We wrongfully filled a death report."</p><p>"Of course I can see him, what kind of question is that? And no, you didn't wrongfully fill out a death report because if it was wrong then you wouldn't have filled it out so he must be dead."</p><p>"You really shouldn't talk to dead people," Matthew said very quietly. "people might worry for you."</p><p>It was September twenty-sixth so it was probably a Thursday and on Thursday, the mess hall served a small styrofoam cup full of this foamy, warm, grey liquid. Toris wasn't part of the kitchen so he had no idea what it was but no one has died from it so it must be a good thing. He had walked to the mess hall alone. Eduard never went to the mess hall because the lads in the NORD sector didn't go to the mess hall. Ravis had found a spot at a table and waved for Toris to join him but Toris marched passed him, he was looking for Ivan.</p><p>The behemoth of a man was stood around a corner, watching a few Operators have a conversation from afar.</p><p>"Ivan!" Toris called out. The Operator in questioned stood upright and whirled around. His eyebrows were raised in surprise but the smile on his face showed that it was not unwelcome.</p><p>"Toris!"</p><p>"You asked me to do your progress report yesterday for today and that's now today so I've come to help you." Ivan's grin grew wider. "-B-but! In order to make your progress report, you will have to let me into the Programmer's room so that I can see your work!"</p><p>Ivan's smile fell slightly and the silence between them grew palpable. Instinctively, Toris pointed his foot towards the hall and tensed his shoulders. "That sounds reasonable." Ivan finally responded.</p><p>Toris let out his two-hundred, six hundred, and seventy-fourth sigh of his life. He led the Cleaner down a hallway he seldom walked down, only just ahead of the crowd returning to their stations. There were two doors next to each other, one read "PROGRAMMERS 1" and the other "PROGRAMMERS 2". Three Programmers walked into the first room, four walked into the second, Ivan held the door open to lead Toris into that one.</p><p>The room wasn't as illustrious as Toris would have thought. The four Programmers already in the the room sat on the floor with several boxes next to them. Each one held a singular type of bead of varying sizes and colors, as well as one lone box of string that measured six feet long. Hanging from the ceiling was one of those threads with the beads hanging from it and a sign that said "MASTER CODE". Two slots were next to each other on one side of the room, one said "In-coming codes", the other one said "out-going codes."</p><p>"So this is the Programmer room?"</p><p>One of the Programmers gave him a funny look as he threaded beads onto the string. "What else would this room be?" A box shucked through the in-coming chute and another Programmer got up to add the pieces to the piles.</p><p>"And when you run out of codes, they mission ends and we can leave?"</p><p>The Programmer laughed and turned to Ivan. "You're right, this guy is ditzy. Can't even remember why we're here."</p><p>"...I think I have everything I need for the progress report." Toris commented, backing up to the door and letting himself out. He finally got to see what the Programmer's room looked like, and Toris barely stayed in it. What was the world coming to? Toris glanced to his side and noticed the other door, also listed as the Programmer's room. His hand slowly curled around the knob and he opened the door.</p><p>The room was exactly the same, just flipped in the opposite direction. The three Operators who sat in the floor of the room had piles of the finished code around them and they set about picking off each bead and placing them in a box. A finished code came through the chute and one got up to collect it. The other two stared at Toris in prolonged silence. Toris threw the door open.</p><p>"Why are you taking them apart?!"</p><p>"Because that's how you solve the codes." The largest of the three replied.</p><p>"Yeah," The one who added another code to the pile commented. "What kind of question is that. When we break the last code, we will finish our mission."</p><p>Toris' hand fell away from the doorknob and hung by his side.</p><p>“Good morning,” The minute hand hung over six while the hour hand wavered around seven. “-highly values Operators!” No one was highly valued. “It is September twenty-sixth,” It's always September twenty-sixth. “-let’s all keep hard at work so that we will can complete our mission!” Was the voice on the intercom even a person?</p><p>Toris said nothing to anyone as he practically dragged himself to the paper room. It was a horribly cluttered mess. He laid down completely on the floor. Steadily, papers began to cover him. A paper <em>fwipped</em> over his face and Toris sputtered, grabbing it and inspecting it. It was a partially filled out request form asking for a surplus of cotton balls to be sent to the OCEA sector. Toris crumpled the paper in his hand, about to throw it when he got an idea. He got up and sought out a pen.</p><p>The papers continued to pile up but Toris had finally sent out some papers, marginally culling the herd of request forms. When the signal for break came, he moved steadily to the mess hall. Gilbert was perched in his usual manner, on top of a table, but today he was distressed. Toris listened in on the conversation with personal investment. "-I don't remember filling out a form but my request form to be transferred to Cleaning was granted." Gilbert shrugged. "So I'm a Cleaner now."</p><p>A smile found it's way onto Toris' face. It was far from the only request form he had fabricated but it was the only that he had been most excited to send out and to see it succeed unquestionably made his chest feel unfamiliarity light. He returned to the paper room with zest and grabbed his pen. Toris never read the papers that came in, it would have been a waste of his time and set him astronomically behind but now he scanned each page with interest.</p><p>The pen shook in his hand and many of the pages, Toris could not read the entirety of before he began making marks on the page. Some he denied simply because no one could stop him from doing so, and he sent them down the progress report chutes. Some of the request forms he changed the items being asked for, or changed who they would be sent to. Sometimes Toris would grab empty sheets and make something up entirely and then sent that out.</p><p>“Good morning,” The clock had both hands at five. “-highly values Operators!” Toris sat up with a smile. “It is September twenty-sixth,” As it always was. “-let’s all keep hard at work so that we will can complete our mission!” Toris lept out of bed.</p><p>He went the opposite direction of the paper room. Gilbert stood in the hallway pushing a mop around against the floor but despite the satisfying sight, Toris didn't stop. Instead, he continued on until he reached the SPAM sector, the home of the door.</p><p>Antonio and the rest of the Blockers stood by the door and straightened their backs at the sight of Toris who walking up to them with his head held high.</p><p>"Didn't you get the message? A request to open the door? You don't need to keep the door anymore, we can leave."</p><p>Antonio and the other Blockers looked at each other and then back to Toris. "Are the Programmers done?"</p><p>"Well, no but-"</p><p>"Then we can't open the door." Toris' shoulders began to droop.</p><p>He didn't go to the mess hall when the signal came, he was in the paper room letting them collect again. Toris hadn't spoken to either Raivis or Eduard in quite some time but neither had sought him out either.</p><p>No one can leave until the Programmers finish their job. One half of them has to break chains of beads, the other half has to put them together, the only place to send them out was to each other. Maybe he could send a form to tell someone to go hide the chains, but that meant someone could find them, Ivan and the others would probably wait hours by the chutes in case something else came through.</p><p>Maybe he could look for the brightest Operators he could find and promote them all to Programmers and hope that they thought more deeply but no one here asked the right questions.</p><p>Toris could move people around as much as he wanted, send supplies where ever he wanted. He could have things put up and have things taken down. None of the Operators would think to ask why. Toris could move the pieces around on the board wherever he wanted to but he couldn't change the game being played. He couldn't request the day to be changed and he couldn't leave. Operators weren't allowed to leave until the Programmers completed their missions. He could take as many turns as he wanted but the game lacked a finishing move.</p><p>Picking up his pen, Toris grabbed a single page and made a report. When the report was done, he took it and left the paper room and closed the door behind him. Toris then walked down to the MEDI sector and submitted the report to Hassan who, after a quick inspection, nodded and processed it. Toris then went back to his room and went to sleep.</p><p>“Good morning, highly values Operators! It is September twenty-sixth, let’s all keep hard at work so that we will can complete our mission!”</p><p>Raivis and Eduard got out of their bunks in a solemn manner, Ravis looked at Toris still in his bunk with stifled cries. Eduard gently placed a hand on his back and led him out of the room. Toris stretched and yawned, getting out of bed with complete leisure. When he felt good and ready, he got up and walked into the hall. Everyone was away in their stations, though many had been recently shuffled around and now sought out their new sector. Toris made an effort to smile and wave to everyone he passed. Each time they quickly averted their gaze from him and did not respond, they weren't allowed to speak to dead Operators.</p><p>He strode to the SPAM sector once again and once again he headed towards the door. Antonio and the other Blockers hardly even paid attention to him, not even as he approached the door. Operators weren't allowed to open the door but Toris wasn't an operator.</p><p>When he penned a death report for himself, Toris stopped to wonder if he should write one for everyone. That would have taken ages though, and even longer for them all to be processed. Toris didn't want to wait that long and some selfish part didn't want to, not yet anyway.</p><p>No one stopped Toris as he moved the vault locks that secured the door, they weren't allowed to.</p><p>The heavy door was stubborn and Toris for a brief moment feared that it would not open at all but a wretched squeak of ancient metal moving gave him the motivation to keep trying. Finally, it began to pull away when Toris tugged it and a cool breeze hit him.</p><p>Toris looked back at the Blockers who still refused to look at him. "It's open, you know. Operators can't open the door but the White Coats didn't say anything about leaving if someone else opened the door." They didn't acknowledge him in anyway. Toris had to relent at some point so he chose to look forward. For everyone in the complex, tomorrow would be September twenty-sixth but as Toris passed through the door, he was eager to see what September twenty-seventh would be like.</p>
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